


The Problem With Spandex

by IanPeriwinkle



Series: Rogues Holiday Collection [1]
Category: The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Closeted Character, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Heists, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, hijinks ensue, possibly sex, the flash rogues - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-27 03:03:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8384764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IanPeriwinkle/pseuds/IanPeriwinkle
Summary: Every year the Rogues pull separate heists on Halloween, all dressed as their favourite (Read: most despised) hero. It's James' first year, and he's wowed his new coworkers with his spandex costuming skills, much to the bitter resentment of Hartley, whose creative skills are nowhere up to par.





	1. Working in a Group is the Worst

**Author's Note:**

> So there's a possibility of this continuing if I can get my head around it, but first I really need to finish these assignments. There's a certain likelihood of this finishing in squicky spandex sex, so heads up that the rating may change accordingly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rogues prepare for Halloween, and James starts learning more about one of his co-workers.

It was, once again, the Rogues’ favourite holiday season – one where they could get away with near any crime, because it seemed that everyone was wan to overlook most crimes as pranks. They sat together in an abandoned warehouse, various sheets of spandex in bright yellow and red strewn around, and sewing utensils spilled over any surface available. Hartley sat between James and Mick – it was his second, and James’ first Halloween with the group, and both were anxious to perform as well as Len expected of them as “official” members of the Rogues.

“Alright, we all know what we’re doing tomorrow night?” Len’s voice echoed slightly in the room, and everyone nodded affirmative. Every rogue had their own job to pull on Halloween, taking advantage of the likelihood that most people would be in costume – and even better, that most criminals who weren’t costumed would imitate the rogues to commit their usual heists. So, for that reason, they would all be dressed as the Flash for theirs, hopefully allowing them to pass off any seemingly illegal action as heroics. Well,  _seemingly_ … of course what they’d be doing is illegal. But the police didn’t need to know that. “Good,” He looked over at the youngest of his Rogues from under his hood. “Jesse, you’re gonna be good on your own, kid?”

“Yesshir,” James answered around his teeth, which were currently pulling a thread taut so he could cut it. The kid was surprisingly good at sewing, Hartley had noted. He’d have to be, really – he didn’t think that any of the Rogues’ tailors would dare make a costume that garishly bright. Not that it didn’t suit him, though. Hartley’s eyes had more than once wondered what kind of body must be hidden under that cloak.

But he had to shake himself out of that kind of thinking. If any of the Rogues found out – especially the older ones, like Roscoe or Digger – he didn’t know if he’d be welcome to stay with them. Or even if he’d be able to stay in the city. He’d already heard what they think of “the gays”, and didn’t fancy becoming a direct target of their drunken, hate-filled rants.

James held up his completed costume and gave it a scrutinising look. The way his nose scrunched up slightly, with one eyebrow raised made Hartley’s stomach flutter in a way that he most definitely didn’t want to be feeling towards another Rogue – especially not in the presence of previously mentioned homophobes. He ducked his head to hide the flush that was no doubt spreading across his pale cheeks, and continued working on his own costume. Years of tinkering with audio equipment had left him with heavily calloused and talented hands when it came to work like this – however as good as his technical skills may have been, he was terrible at the creative portion of the work involved, and so when he inspected his costume he found that the symbol was off-centre, the sizing and shape was slightly wrong – but wrong enough to be noticeable – and the shape in which he had cut the earpieces were completely wrong, and flopped to one side.

He frowned, and dropped the costume with a huff. “We should have started this way earlier,” he moaned, more to himself than anyone else.

But, for himself or not, the moan gained the interest of James who took one look at Hartley’s costume and burst into a fit of giggles. “That’s terrible!” He cackled, pretending to wipe a tear from his completely obscured eye. “Seriously, is that the best you can do? You ain’t fooling nobody with that piece of shit!”

Hartley scowled, as the rest of the Rogues looked over and began to snicker. It wasn’t like any of them were doing much better – Digger had actually bought a cheap knock-off costume instead of making one, and had been spending the entire time they were meant to be crafting their costumes and heists working his way through the abundant, but now slightly waning, supply of beer. But as terrible as their own costumes were, even compared to his, it still hurt to be humiliated in front of them. He gripped the costume tightly in his hands and stood, fully prepared to stalk out of the room and back to his own apartment. It would be easier to concentrate there anyway. But as he was leaving the door, and hopefully leaving behind the laughter of the Rogues, he felt a pull on his elbow and turned around to see a somewhat apologetic-looking Trickster tugging at his arm.

“Sorry, man,” The kid apologised, showing remarkable sincerity given his status as a con-man, “I can help you with it if you’d like.”

The red-head looked at James with a cold glare, but had to look away after a moment when he visualised the bright blue eyes he knew were hiding under the domino. He bit back a sigh, but relented with a reluctant nod and headed out, bringing James with him against his better judgement. He ignored the jeers from the older Rogues as he led James out to his car. "Get in," He instructed, slipping into the driver's seat and throwing his costume into the back, along with several tattered books, a few instruments, and he found himself blushing as he realised he still had a rainbow flag from the latest Pride rally lying there.

"So..." James quickly averted his eyes from the pride flag when he noticed it, and turned to face the front again, "Um..."

_Great_ , Hartley thought to himself bitterly,  _If he blabs I'll be out of the Rogues for sure_.

"You read a lot?" James asked, trying to break the tension. He had suspicions that Hartley was gay, but never any confirmation until now. He'd noticed the red-head checking him out on more than one occasion, and while it bothered him a little bit, he didn't find it nearly as unappealing as he'd suspected he would.

Hartley tried to hide his surprise at the choice of topic, and blinked a few times before responding with a quiet "yes," and then more confidently leaping into a summary of one of the many novels he was currently investing his time in.

James settled back in the seat, content to listen to Hartley talk for a while rather than bother with any further conversation. He was finding out plenty about the Rogue without asking questions, anyway - the kid's body language alone was enough to at least tell him that he was awkward and uncomfortable. But also telling things - like he obviously spoke at least some sign with the gesticulation that was somehow occurring at the same time as he drove, or that it was the first time his hair had been this long, with slender fingers reaching up to push aside stray hairs unsuccessfully. 

It was almost attractive.

James shook himself at that last thought and looked pointedly away from Piper, choosing instead to stare out the window at the neighbourhoods that were slowly becoming more and more dodgy as they travelled. A look of concern covered his face for a moment, before he turned to Hartley and asked in as casual a tone as he could muster, “So what’s with this neighbourhood? You can afford a better place than this if you get _half_ the cut I’m making,”

A brief look of discomfort crossed Hartley’s face. “I like this neighbourhood,” He said, “And most of the money I get doesn’t stay with me for long.” He didn’t say anything further on that, but it certainly piqued James’ interest.

“Doesn’t stay with you long? The hell does that mean? Do you just spend it?” James raised an eyebrow and looked the Piper over. He somehow couldn’t see the guy as an avid shopper. But, much to his shock, Piper nodded.

“Yeah, something like that,” He said. “I usually take inventory, sort out what I can spend, and within a day it’s gone.” He wasn’t going to tell James that “gone” actually meant “given to homeless shelters and charities that Hartley deemed as needing the most help”, but he was happy to have the younger man believe that he was happy to lose so much money so quickly.

“Jesus,” James let out a nervous chuckle as they pulled up to Hartley’s apartment, “You must really need some help with your finances.”

Hartley just shrugged in response, and headed into the building, holding the door open for James who carried in the costumes and materials. “Well,” He said, allowing the door to swing shut, “Let’s get these things finished.”


	2. Can this be called 'the morning after'...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James stays the night at Hartley's, and James discovers something new about himself (that he really, REALLY didn't want to find out). Hartley is pleasantly surprised, though.

The two young Rogues had sat quietly, only passing the occasional murmur between each-other as James assisted Hartley in fixing up his costume before the big night. Hartley struggled to keep his eyes on his work, however, allowing them to stray a few too many times to look at James’ abdomen, which was (both unfortunately and fortunately) still obscured under his tightly clad, and brightly clashing uniform, distracting him from his work and on more than one occasion causing him to prick himself with the sewing needle.

“Jeez, Piper,” James looked at the red-head’s fingers the fifth time it happened and frowned, “You’re lucky the costume’s red. Here,” He fished around in a pocket that Hartley didn’t know existed and pulled out some brightly coloured Looney Tunes bandaids. He grabbed Piper’s hand and expertly wrapped one around his finger, pointedly ignoring the flush that he saw come across Piper’s cheeks from the corner of his eye. “There. That’ll stop any further pokes,” He said, and without looking at the other young man’s face, turned back to the sewing.

Hartley hoped that the blush wasn’t obvious, grateful that James hadn’t looked up at him for the process (as far as he knew. Domino masks are highly deceptive). “Thanks,” He murmured, picking up the needle again and continuing. He was looking forward to this being over – being around James at the same time as the rest of the Rogues wasn’t too bad, but when they were alone it felt awkward.

The awkward silence broken by occasional murmurs continued for most of the night, until finally James held up the costume and gave a tired nod of approval. “Finally,” He yawned, “it’s nearly as good as mine. This is going to be great,” He gave a tired smile to Piper, who returned a sheepish one of his own (accompanied by a light blush that James had to remind himself would definitely only be attractive on a girl).

“Thank god,” Hartley said, “so does this mean we can finally sleep?”

James nodded in the affirmative. “Guess I’ll be going home now,” He said, and made a move for the door before turning around. “Shit,” He swore, “I came here in your car.” His eyes flickered towards a digital clock that was buried under stacks of paper and laundry (and… was that food?), that was flashing the time of 3AM. “I guess it’s too late to walk back to mine,” He groaned.

“Well, um,” Hartley blushed brighter, “if you can’t walk back, you could always stay the night?” He offered. “It may not look it, but the couch is surprisingly comfortable.” He tried to give a not-too-hopeful-looking smile.

The blond looked over at the couch sceptically, and his eyes drifted back to Piper. “Fine,” He said, “I suppose I’ll have to.” He really didn’t want to spend the night there (or he told himself he didn’t), but he didn’t see much other option other than walking through the streets unarmed (why the hell did he have to leave his weapons in the car!?) at three in the morning in one of the most notoriously rough neighbourhoods in Keystone.

“I’ll grab a blanket,” Hartley told him, and disappeared into what James assumed was the bedroom, emerging a minute later with two pillows, and a blanket that looked extremely warm. “Here you go,” the red-head placed the pillows and blanket on the couch, spreading them out into a semblance of a bed, “sleep well,” He told James, before disappearing back into his room.

The exchange was quick and impersonal, and somehow that made it even more awkward for James, who got under the blanket and made himself comfortable, burying into the couch and curling around on himself. He tried to fall asleep – he genuinely did – but somehow he couldn’t convince his body to. Especially since he could hear muffled sounds coming from the Piper’s room that sounded so… erotic. He closed his eyes forcefully and rolled over to face away from the source of the sound which he was sure was Hartley masturbating, trying to think of anything but that nearly shoulder-length head of hair, those soft-looking pink lips, that slightly-too-skinny but extremely attractive body, those long legs… Ah, fuck it. James bit his lip, angry at himself as he reached down to cup his crotch, which had already hardened considerably. _Dammit_ , he thought to himself as he rubbed from the outside, _I am_ NOT _going to masturbate in the Pied Piper’s living room_. He kept telling himself this as he rubbed, then again as he slipped a hand into his tights and grabbed his cock, slick with precum, and again as he started pumping, hand tightening around his length and he swore he wasn’t imagining pushing it forcefully into Piper’s ass.

Hartley, meanwhile, was telling himself as he masturbated that it was completely inappropriate to think of his young co-worker this way, and that he needed to stop before Len found out. He was panting and moaning though, and the images of what he imagined James’ ass looked like under those tights wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he willed them to. And god, was he loud. He panted heavily as his hand worked his cock under the covers, ever-aware that in the next room, with only extremely this walls between them, was his young and slightly homophobic co-worker, who also happened to be a walking wet-dream.

The red-head attempted (and failed) to keep quiet when he came, accidentally letting out a scream of “James,” followed shortly after by hearing the ending of James’ masturbation, having been too loud himself to have heard it previously. The blonde gave a gasp when he finished, calling not Hartley’s name, because he’d been very careful about not letting any of the Rogues aside from Len know who he really was so far, but giving a cry of “Pipes,” before settling with a sigh.

James lay alone feeling conflicted and disgusted at himself, while Hartley lay both conflicted and confused. He thought James hated gays – or that was the impression that he gave off when around Digger and the rest. Hartley may have been closeted around them, but he never went as far as to make digs at people for their sexuality (or gender identity for that matter. He was getting tired of Digger’s endless T-slurs).

Neither of the two slept that night, both kept up by thoughts of the other, and the awkwardness that would ensue the next morning. While James believed Piper would be asleep, and would expect him in the morning, Piper lay, listening to the obviously awake and anxious heartbeat of his usually confident co-worker, wondering why the blonde didn’t just leave if he felt so worried.

The next morning came eventually, and when it was clear neither of them was going to sleep at all, Hartley got up, noting that it was about seven in the morning (and about five hours before he usually even contemplated getting out of bed). He walked into the living room, pretending to yawn and stretch. “Tricks, you awake?” He asked, knowing full well that the man was awake and that his heart rate had quickened upon Piper’s entrance.

“Yeah, now I am,” James feigned a yawn and sat up, looking over at Piper. Hartley took note that the blonde hadn’t removed his mask for the entire night.

“I’m thinking I’ll go out and grab a coffee and something to eat. Wanna come with?” He cocked his head in invitation, knowing that James would likely decline and take the opportunity to go home and escape the awkwardness.

To his surprise, James nodded. “Sure, uh-” he rubbed his neck sheepishly, “first though, can I use your shower? I kinda reek,”

He didn’t, but Hartley nodded anyway. “Yeah, I think I’ll have one too. Let me grab you a towel.”

The two both showered, both taking advantage of the noise that the shower made to finish anything left undone last night, and headed out for a slightly awkward, but not unpleasant breakfast. Neither of the young Rogues asked any questions, and they headed in their separate ways eventually, with Hartley dropping off James outside the Rogues’ hideout, each believing that nobody was any the wiser about what had happened between them last night.

And from the window, Len watched his two youngest Rogues part ways, wondering how he should go about dealing with the impending relationship.


	3. The Heists (or that one time Hartley realised his crush might actually be affecting his work ethic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rogues set out on their Halloween heists, and most things go to plan. Most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So over a month after Halloween I am finally trying to finish this off so that I can get a Christmas fic going. Feel free to bug me on any platforms you have me on to get it done if you wish.

It was finally the night. Piper was staring at himself in the mirror, trying to get his hair to sit flat underneath the costume (and failing miserably). Eventually he just gave up, and pushed his hair back before pulling the cowl on over it and scowling at his reflection. James had done way too good a job on these costumes – he could actually pass as the Flash. Y’know… if he was actually a jerk.

He left the bathroom tucked away in a corner of the hideout and bumped into Mick, who was sporting his own Flash costume, and looking somewhat irked.

“Hey,” He greeted tentatively, giving a small wave to Mick, who returned it with a glare and a nod. It was unusual for the man to be so sullen, and Hartley was trying to figure out a way he could ask what was wrong without being too forward, when Mick explained his mood on his own.

“Goddamn Len,” He started, stomping his foot and glaring at the floor before turning his gaze to Hartley, “He’s makin’ me join Digger on his heist tonight. _Digger_ , of all people!” Heatwave looked extremely aggravated by it, although Hartley could understand why Len had asked him to step in. Between Digger’s drunkenness and Mick’s clumsiness and general inexperience, the two weren’t exactly suited to work together, but would be better off than on their own.

It wouldn’t do him any good to mention that, though. He walked over to Mick and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Sorry about that,” He said with a small, warm smile, “But hey, at least this means you’ll have backup. The rest of us have to lug all of our hauls back alone,” He hoped that made the man feel better, even if it wasn’t much of a consolation, but it seemed to do the job.

“I suppose,” Mick groaned, and rubbed his head awkwardly. “I just wish it was someone else, y’know? I mean, you’re always good for team-ups,”

Hartley blushed lightly, not used to being complimented by the other Rogues, and gave a small nod. “I suppose, yeah,” He said sheepishly.

The two continued chatting for a few minutes before they heard Len calling for Mick to “get his damn butt in the common area so he could get his butt into gear”, and while Heatwave ran off, Piper followed slowly. Like always, there was a semblance of a meeting before everyone went off on their heists, and while Hartley didn’t always enjoy them, they were really the only times he got to socialise with people anymore.

He and James sat next to each-other, a slight tension between them, but nothing noticeable to the other Rogues. They still contributed, checking over each others’ tech, gave pointers to some of the other Rogues in areas where they had more experience, and making fun of Digger as he progressively became more and more shitfaced. But some of the laughs were just a little too high, the touches too quickly pulled back, and the eye contact that should have lasted a second pausing for just a bit too long.

“Alright,” It had gone for an hour over schedule – honestly, not too out of character for the group, who started to stand and gather what they needed as Len said the word, “Everyone who needs to head out now, go. Everyone else whose heists are time sensitive, get your arses in gear.” He nodded particularly towards Trickster, who had chosen to steal from an arcade – he had to wait until it closed, but of course on a Halloween night it was going to be open late.

The blonde nodded happily and grabbed his stuff, beginning to head back to his little nook in the base, as Hartley headed for the door. He was targeting a music store that he honestly wasn’t sure was open anymore. It was a large chain that had started to have its business waver in the past few years, and he was near certain it was going bankrupt anyway, so he used those excuses to quash the guilt that he felt at stealing from living people, rather than the faceless corporations he usually targeted.

Mick and Digger both headed to the door. They were targeting a winery outside of town, and needed to get on their way quickly otherwise they wouldn’t be back until dawn. While neither of them really drank the stuff (once drunk enough Digger would drink anything, but his drink of choice was still beer), the wine was worth a reasonable amount of money, and they’d happily pawn it off elsewhere. Metropolis seemed to be a favourite for the Rogues to sell their stolen goods for exorbitant prices.

And so, with that, the Rogues went their separate ways for the night.

* * *

Hartley had managed to successfully knock off a couple grand worth of CDs (at least half of which were going into his ever-expanding personal collection that had become somewhat depleted after being kicked out of home), and was driving himself back to the hideout listening to one of the keepers (A 2009 album by The Paper Raincoat that he had owned in the past but had lost, and was happy to have found again), when he noticed sirens heading towards him. He pulled over, sure that he hadn’t gotten caught, and noted that they seemed to be going straight, approaching from his left. They rushed past him, and with a gasp Hartley realised that they were headed straight towards the arcade that Trickster would have only just been beginning to rob.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he turned the car and followed the cops, keeping far enough behind that they wouldn’t notice anything suspicious.

He pulled his car over a few blocks away, and locked it securely before heading to the arcade. He snuck in through the back entrance, well aware from the noise that the alarms had already been triggered. His flute gripped tightly in his hand, he followed the main sounds of commotion through the building until he found the Trickster in combat with police – or, what counted for combat with the young Rogue. It was mostly him throwing pies and rigged rubber chickens at them while they scrambled to avoid.

“Hey,” Piper hissed at James, trying to gain his attention, “Hey, Tricks! Get down here,” The police were plenty distracted with the mess, and Hartley was nearly certain that if they just got the right chance… and nope, they’d missed it. One of the cops slid to a halt and raised his gun, aiming it directly at the Trickster’s chest.

“Don’t make me do it,” The officer warned, finger sitting dangerously close to the trigger. Hartley bit his lip and made the decision, though he hated doing this. He held the flute to his lips and played – nothing too complicated, just a high pitched note that had the officers all in a trance.

James looked down and smiled upon seeing his co-worker. “Hi,” He greeted, running down and patting Hartley’s shoulder before remembering the awkwardness of the previous night. “Um, thanks?” He asked, before grabbing one of the pinball machines that he’d set his sights on, and heaving it onto a trolley. “Hey, mind giving me a hand?” he asked, grinning charmingly.

Hartley found himself rolling his eyes, but agreeing to help move the machine into the moving van (which impressively already had a few arcade machines loaded into it), and getting back into his own car while James took off with the moving van.

Neither of them found out what a success their heists had actually been compared to some until the next morning.

The Rogues who hadn’t been arrested had all settled around a stolen TV to watch the coverage of last night’s heists, all cackling when it turned out a bunch of teenagers teepeeing the Flash Museum had been arrested under suspicion that they were the actual Rogues, rather than just wearing terribly made costumes, and hadn’t been cleared until earlier that morning.

“Serves ‘em right,” Len snorted, taking a drink of rum and coke and eyeing the piles of haul that had been loaded into the hideout. “Anyway, s’pose we should get onto this before we bother rescuing Rory and Boomer. Yeh all got the approximate net value?”

The rest of that day passed without event – at least, as far as the Rogues went.


	4. Movie Night (Or that time Hartley accidentally insulted the guy he wanted to bang)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and Hartley get cozy watching cartoons until they get caught, and a misunderstanding by Len, combined with a joke that hits too close to home from Piper, causes a rift between the two.

It had been a few days since Halloween. November was well on its way to becoming winter, with the days becoming shorter and the weather becoming cooler. While Len was pleased enough with this turn, Digger had started planning a trip to Australia with Mick to escape the cold, while the rest of the Rogues had made a small fortress in the middle of the common area, kept warm by piles of blankets and a small space heater stolen from Mick’s room.

Hartley had curled up that night next to the heater, three jackets over his normal attire, a scarf, and a beanie concealing his thin frame. His hands fiddled under the blanket that draped over him with a flute that needed some repairs as he listened to the men around him talking.

“I swear to you Mark, this is the best cartoon that has ever existed,” James insisted, reaching out from under his own pile of pillows to put a DVD in their shoddy player. The young man seemed to have an endless supply of cartoons – ranging from Disney to Warner Brothers, classic and modern, and with every single “appropriate audience” you could find.

Mark wasn’t keen on cartoons for reasons Hartley was unable to work out. Of course, when they sat down as a group to play a drinking game with one he wouldn’t object, but it was rare for him to sit and watch one with James. _Ah, but of course_. A smile crossed Hartley’s face as he recognised the theme – _Superjail_. He could understand the appeal, even to someone like Mark. Hell, even he enjoyed the crude humour himself, even though he typically wasn’t one for it.

He popped his head out from under the covers and shuffled to a better angle to watch with them. James was the kind of person who had to start at episode one whenever he showed it to a new person, no matter how many times he may have seen it before. It was sweet by his standards, really.

“Should I be worried, Piper?” Mark asked, cringing at the terrible quality animation and looking to the red-head for help.

He shook his head, “No, actually. This one is rather good.” He placed the flute to the side and settled down to watch with them, even going so far as to reach over and take a handful of the popcorn James had prepared for the viewing.

The three of them watched mostly in silence, aside from the occasional fit of laughter (usually from James), and questions posed (typically from Mark to James), and they found themselves watching the entire season that night, with the last episode ending at around two in the morning. With that, Mark decided he’d retire to bed, much to James’ chagrin.

“But Mark,” He whined, snaking an arm around the Weather Wizard’s leg, “Just one more? I promise you’ll like this one, too,”

Mark looked almost tempted by the offer, but sighed, pulling his leg out of James’ grasp. “Sorry, Tricks. I’ve got a thing tomorrow,” He shrugged in apology, and headed to his room.

James turned to Hartley with a determined glare. “Okay, _you’re_ watching with me,” He insisted.

“No,” Hartley replied, not skipping a beat. “I’m going to bed, too,” He went to get up, taking the flute with him, when he found both of his legs entrapped by James.

“Come on, _please_?” Blue eyes shone up at Hartley, and he had to take a deep breath before replying.

“Fine,” Wait. Shit. That isn’t what he’d meant to say. “Wait, um –“

A gleeful grin filled James’ face and he crawled away to dig through the DVDs, eventually pulling out one which he held triumphantly. “This one’s a movie,” He explained, putting it in the player, “I think you’ll really like it. It’s called _The Triplets of Belleville_ ,”

Hartley’s eyes widened. He’d heard of that film, but hadn’t had a chance to see it yet – and he was honestly sort of surprised James had picked it. He sighed with a smile, attempting to seem exasperated and failing miserably. He covered himself in his blankets again, and was just getting comfortable when James came over to him, remote in one hand, and looking extremely un-Trickster-ish.

“What’s up?” Piper asked, cocking his head slightly.

James’ face flushed, and he looked away, before asking if it would be okay to sit under the blanket together. “It – it’s cold,” He defended, “it’s just to keep warm. It’s not like I’m gay or anything,”

Hartley didn’t comment on the small sigh of relief and smile James gave when he held open the blanket for the blonde to join him, and he wrapped it around both of them comfortably as the movie began playing.

They sat in complete silence this time, Hartley not knowing the songs yet, and James being rapt with the animation and the story. A few giggles were shared between them, but for the most part it was a quiet silence.

Then Len walked in.

At first he just sat behind them quietly, not bothering to say anything to the two young men who had been enjoying their time together, but were now not so certain. Hartley could feel his eyes on them, and shuddered slightly in anxiety.

The rest of the film passed, and when neither James nor Hartley moved to remove the DVD from the player, Len stood up to do it, and turned to them with a grave look. “So,” He began, looking between them with a judgemental glare, “When were you two going to tell me about this,” He folded his arms and stood intimidatingly above them. It wasn’t that he objected to them dating – if that’s what was even happening, which he was pretty sure was the case. It was that they were dating _and_ they were two of his Rogues. That meant he was responsible for what happened when they were on the field, and if either of them got distracted during a heist, well…

“Tell you about what? The movie?” James snorted with less of his usual bravado than normal and started to get out from the blanket nest, rolling his eyes.

“Nothing’s going on, Len,” Hartley assured him, “Trust me.” It was the truth. Nothing was technically going on between them. Well, except a one-sided crush on Piper’s half and a mutual sexual attraction that Hartley was sure would end in heartbreak for him.

It was Len’s turn to snort. “Sure there ain’t – and I’m Mother Theresa,” He glowered at the two of them. “Listen, I don’t give a shit what you two do in bed or whatever,” He did grimace at the thought, though, “I just need to know in case something fucks up in a heist. I don’t want none of that bleeding heart bullcrap to interfere with the group.” He seemed to particularly glare at Hartley. He supposed it was due to that one time he ran into a burning building (lit by one of Rory’s stray bombs) to rescue one of the people they were meant to be hijacking delivery vans from, but one could never be sure with Leonard.

“There isn’t anything going on!” James protested, “I’m _not_ gay,” He took a deep breath to steady his voice when Len responded with a chuckle, “Seriously – I’m not,”

Len and Hartley both rolled their eyes at that, with completely different responses.

“Sure you’re not,” Was Len’s.

And at the same time, Piper replied, “Liking guys doesn’t automatically make you gay.”

Either way, it was the same type of assumption in James’ eyes and he frowned at both of them. “You’re both goddamn jerks, y’know that?” He shouted, before stomping off to his own room, leaving two amused older Rogues behind in his wake.

* * *

The next morning, Hartley decided to apologise for making James uncomfortable, and attempted to pull him aside and talk to him, but the blonde was ignoring him quite pointedly, sitting and chatting with Digger, and making more comments than was typical for him about “the gays” and their evil ways.

Honestly, it was fairly disheartening, and he found himself sitting alone for most of that day rather than joining in with the rest of the Rogues. He had that usual feeling in the put of his stomach that he got whenever he thought about his parents or his sister (or, for that matter, his ex), and he realised after a time that it was loneliness.

After another joke about how “the gays” should join the Mexicans on the other side of Trump’s wall, Hartley stood up and left the hideout, not taking anything with him for the sole reason that he didn’t want to be around them anymore. Even disappearing to his room would leave him within hearing range, and he didn’t know if he could take much more of what they called banter before attempting to wipe them all out.

He walked in one direction for what was probably hours, most people along the way avoiding his path, until he walked into one person and quickly apologised before attempting to move around them. But their arm stopped him – almost too quickly to see it even move.

Hartley looked up apprehensively to find himself face to face with a Flash. A Flash with his usual grim face pulled into a frown (was that… concern that Hartley saw? Nah, it couldn’t be). Hartley’s face dropped again and he sighed. “What do you want, Flash? I’m not doing anything right now, and I’m out of jail legitimately this time.” He was in too much of a mood to deal with this bullshit right now.

“Hey, I just heard reports that a ticked-off looking Rogue was walking around in the freezing cold,” The guy shrugged. Hartley’s eyes narrowed at him. Jerk. Pretending to be nice just so he could find a reason to arrest him, no doubt.

“Well, I’m fine, and I don’t need you to come check up on me or whatever it is you’re doing,” Hartley tried to push past but found himself held back again.

“Dude, it’s _freezing_ ,” The jerk pointed out. “At least take a coat,” In a flash, the guy was holding a winter coat and shoving it into Hartley’s hands.

He scowled, and shoved it back. “I don’t _need_ it,” He hissed, trying to get away and finding himself blocked yet again. “Oh my god, why can’t you _leave me alone_?” Hartley was annoyed to find that his outburst was getting too emotional, and tears were pricking his eyes. Goddamn Rogues. Goddamn Flash. Goddamn _James_.

It honestly took him a minute to process that the Giant Red Dildo had pulled the coat around Hartley and guided him to sit on a bench after he started to cry. That had… not been what he’d expected of today at all.

The next day found Hartley waking up in a terrible mood. The previous night he’d returned to even more jeers, being called oversensitive, a wimp, and that word he absolutely _hated_ but seemed to follow him everywhere.

He stalked out to the coffee pot and thankfully found the common area empty, and so brewed the coffee at his leisure and settled to drink it next to the heater. He was happy to be alone for now, and sighed contentedly as he sipped. The sounds of sleep in other rooms was almost relaxing, and the hum of cars outside was numbing to him now. Just the white noises that came with living in the city.

He was interrupted eventually when James woke up. Neither of them greeted each-other, with James avoiding Hartley again, though this time he didn’t seem as stand-offish or cruel. In fact, Hartley noted, he looked as if he felt somewhat guilty.

James also got a coffee (with five sugars and milk), and sat opposite Hartley, still not saying a word. This silence wasn’t comfortable, like the one the other night. It was grating, and awkward, and upsetting, and Hartley found himself shaking in anger as what was said yesterday played through his head on repeat.

It must have been noticeable, because he startled when James placed his hands around Hartley’s and eased the cup from him, putting it on the floor. He looked down, blonde lashes covering his eyes as if to hide, and sat back again, picking up his own drink. “I’m sorry,” The mumble was almost silent. Almost. Quiet enough that if Hartley didn’t have enhanced hearing he was certain he wouldn’t have heard it.

He looked up, somewhat shocked at the apology. As far as he’d noticed in the past few months of working with The Trickster, the man wasn’t very good at apologising. Or being nice in general. But then again, none of the Rogues were really… _nice_.

“Um…” He didn’t quite know how to react. “I’m not going to say it’s okay,” He said quietly, wrapping his still-shaking hands around his knees and drawing them close, “because it’s really not.” His voice trembled, “But I do accept your apology,” He looked up at James and saw an uncharacteristic frown on his face. “I’m sorry, too,” He added, “I shouldn’t have teased you. You’re not gay. I believe you,”

For some reason that made his face crumple, and Hartley was honestly shocked when James looked up angrily, “But I think I am,” He said forcefully, not quite shouting. He didn’t want to wake the other Rogues. “I think I caught it off you,” He muttered, crossing his arms in an angry huff.

“James,” Hartley’s voice grew tense, “you can’t… _catch_ gay.” His brow furrowed a bit.

“But I never thought about guys like this before,” He pouted, looking up at Hartley desperately. “It’s only you,”

Hartley didn’t quite know what to make of that. But he didn’t say anything. He just sat with James for a while, both having apologised, but neither wanting to continue the conversation.

As soon as Len came into the common they split ways, each leaving a lot unsaid.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end for the 2016 Halloween fic. I apologise for the lack of spandex sex, but that can always come later! A Christmas fic should follow shortly, and I'll possibly do a one-shot for Australia day (just because). Hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Also a note on my characterisation of Hartley: I tend to write him as somewhat anxious. Canonically (in the preboot) he had psychotic breakdowns, and I really like to play with the fact that he likely had very emotional outbursts, overreacted frequently, and often wasn't 100% aware of what was happening in his mind.


End file.
